


Fairest Of Them All

by magisterpavus



Series: Voltron NSFW Week [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Captivity, Companionable Snark, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Fae & Fairies, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Interrogation, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Magic-Users, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Prosthesis, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Riding, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Scars, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Villains to Heroes, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Fae are cold, cruel, and beautiful. Shiro knows this, and is almost grateful for it, because it makes it easier for him to put an iron arrow in their hearts.But Lance is neither cold nor cruel. Unfortunately, he is very beautiful. And for the first time, Shiro’s arrow misses its mark.It isn’t by mistake.(DAY 5: TRICKS & TRAPS)





	Fairest Of Them All

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh finally I get to share this with you guys, this was an absolute pleasure to write and there will probably be a sequel in the near future as there's so much more to explore in this universe~ as always, your comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> support me on tumblr [@saltyshiro](http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/)

Shiro was being watched.

He could _feel_ the eyes on him, the back of his neck prickling as he paused in his bathing as casually as possible, the clear blue pool rippling as he let his hands fall back into the water. His heart pounded as his head raced – this area was clear, it was supposed to be clear. Their camp was not even a mile from here…were the fae planning another ambush? Would their camp be decimated in the night by fae assassins, deadly with their cloaks of invisibility and silent wings? Was one about to leap out at him now?

Shiro waited, tense, his iron right hand curled into a fist below the water. Well, it was stainless steel, technically, along with whatever confounded devices made it work just as well as the original arm had – he hadn’t exactly had time to press Honerva for details when she was fitting it to his cauterized stump. Whatever devices they were, they were silent as he lifted his hand from the water and turned slowly, ready to punch whichever damn faery thought it was a good idea to spy on a human with an entire limb made of the only thing that could kill them properly.

He blinked. There was nothing there – only the quiet, peaceful grove of apple trees, their leaves swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze, a few birds picking at the fallen fruits among the lush grass. Shiro narrowed his eyes at the treetops – still, nothing. But the sensation of being watched returned as soon as he slowly turned back around to face the waterfall.

“Fine, you sneaky little imp,” he said under his breath, eyes darting to his bow and quiver on the near shore, along with his clothes – just in case. Shiro was determined to finish this bath, it was the first real one he’d had in weeks, so he angled his body ever so slightly to the right in order to see the trees out of the corner of his eye. Soap in his flesh hand, he continued washing the grime, sweat, and remnants of blood from his skin, sighing and stretching as the cool water soothed his aching muscles.

When he’d joined Emperor Zarkon’s army ten years ago to fight the fae, he’d imagined glory and vengeance. He had given far less thought to being sore and exhausted, though he’d experienced more of the latter in his service thus far. Not to say that there was no glory and vengeance – Shiro was proud to fight for the Galran army when they paraded through the villages and towns they’d saved, he was glad to see the smiling families and laughing children showering them with flowers; he was relieved knowing that more people would be spared from the cruelty of the fae.

But the fighting itself was…less rewarding. Shiro understood why many of his fellow soldiers reveled in the heat and blood of battle, he could appreciate the rush of adrenaline it gave him, but…war was ugly, this war especially.

When magic and iron clashed, it was always devastating for at least one side, often for both. And the fae had learned to stop fighting in open fields – they couldn’t hold out against Zarkon’s war machines and mechanized transports. So they’d retreated into their territory, into the Wilds, where they fought using their ruthlessly cunning guerilla tactics. The Galran army had to evolve to fight like them, and Shiro hated it – hated the inability to trust any shadow, tree, or thicket as they passed through the forest; hated the traps that the fae set for them with nets and ropes and stakes; hated the clever poisons and potions the fae attacked them with when they were too cowardly for blades. The war was no longer glorious, it was frustrating. They were at a stalemate, and yet the fighting continued with no end in sight.

There was a flicker of movement from the trees.

Shiro whirled, and caught a glimpse of wide, bright blue eyes peering through the leaves before their owner let out a startled squeak and they vanished at once. Shiro swore, figured his bath had gone on long enough, and stormed back to shore, dressing quickly and notching his bow with an arrow. He knew he should just return to camp, but he was determined to track down the blue-eyed fae who had been watching him. Watching him _bathe_ , no less! Shiro shook his head in disgust and continued on through the forest, watching the treetops carefully when he wasn’t looking for tracks on the ground.

He was forced to return back to camp empty-handed, but somehow Shiro had a feeling he’d be seeing those eyes again.

*

He was right.

It was only a few days later, when he was out catching fish for breakfast with Thace. Thace was one of the more likable soldiers in his unit; both he and Shiro had been serving since the army’s inception and were both respected lieutenants. Thace was calm and patient even in the face of this war, and spending time with him always lifted Shiro’s spirits a little. That early morning was no exception – as they waded into the shallows and cast their rods out into the slow-moving river, Thace began to hum a song, soft and sweet as the sun rose.

“What’s that one called?” Shiro asked when he was done. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“It’s called ‘Riversong,’” Thace replied quietly, watching the lure as it bobbed in the water lazily. “You wouldn’t know it, it was from before.”

“Before?” Shiro asked, a little wary.

“Before the war,” Thace said, confirming his suspicions. “It’s a faery lullaby.”

Shiro looked at him askance. “And you know it how?”

“When I was young, I lived near a river like this one,” Thace said simply. “The nixies played on the banks and sang it to each other every morning. It was a beautiful sound to wake up to.”

Shiro frowned. “I thought nixies were fonder of drowning than singing.”

“I don’t know,” Thace said, brow lowering, “that one seems fond enough.”

Shiro followed his gaze to the far bank…and froze. Blue eyes blinked back at him through the reeds, and he started forward, fists clenched. Thace caught his arm and Shiro turned to him angrily. “That thing has been following me!” he snapped. “It was watching me earlier this week from the trees…”

Thace’s brow furrowed. “Watching you? The fae have sent spies before, but not nixies, and never alone…hmm.” He released Shiro’s arm and the blue eyes widened, but before it could run away again, Shiro cast his fishing rod towards the reeds and felt it tug at something solid as a high-pitched cry came from the bank. The fishing hook was iron, of course. He tugged hard and started to reel it in, and the reeds rustled as the creature struggled violently, its pitiful cries probably sending all the fish scattering.

Shiro didn’t care. He wanted to know why he was being watched by the fae. What was their scheme this time?!

But the hook came free and all he saw was a glimpse of brown skin and long legs before it escaped a second time. When he reeled it back in, the hook was stained red, and Thace gave him a troubled look. “What?” Shiro snapped, washing the blood off in the river.

“Perhaps it’s not a spy,” Thace murmured. “Perhaps it’s just curious. That is in their nature, you know, nixies most of all.”

“It wasn’t curiosity that made the fae do this,” Shiro retorted, extending his iron arm before wading out of the water and waiting expectantly on the bank. “Let’s find breakfast elsewhere, this river’s fish are long gone now.”

Thace agreed, but the furrow in his brow did not smooth over.

*

Then, late the next week, it happened a third time.

This time, like the first time, Shiro was alone. But this time it was night, and he was out scouting the perimeter, ensuring that no one slipped into the camp. They’d caught a faun sneaking around the night previous, and Lotor had mounted his severed head on a stake to ward off any others…Shiro thought that would dissuade any with half a brain from following in his hoofprints, but Prince Lotor had insisted on extra scouts and guards anyway.

It was a cool night, as it often was in the forest, and Shiro pulled his cloak tighter around himself, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked, the other hand on his lantern. He didn’t trust the forest, especially not at night – every sound, every movement, could be a potential enemy. Shiro hadn’t survived this long fighting in the war only to be dispensed of by a bump in the night.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than a low growl sounded through the undergrowth. He stopped in his tracks, beginning to unsheathe the blade…only for the growl to be joined by several others. Many others. The darkness around him alit with eyes, yellow and glaring, and Shiro took a step back only to hear an even louder series of growls and snarls behind him. He exhaled, weighing his options. He might just have to hack his way through…but as one of the creatures stepped forward, he reassessed.

These were no ordinary wolves; they were faery wolves. Each one stood as tall as a man and twice as strong, their long tufted ears pinned back against their narrow heads as they circled him, thick tails lashing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Where had a pack this size come from, anyway? Maybe they were just passing through, and Shiro was the unlucky prey they’d found for the night. Though they’d need more than just one soldier to sate their hunger…he needed to warn the others. He needed to –

The first wolf lunged and Shiro tore his sword from its scabbard, swinging it wildly along with the lantern and sending the wolf reeling back. It was only a temporary solution, though – their hunger would outweigh their fear of iron. He held out his arm for good measure, waving it at them and watching their black lips peel back from shining fangs, undeterred by the display. Hack his way out it was, then. The wolves snapped their jaws and closed in, and Shiro braced himself…

A high note rang out through the forest. The wolves stopped, lifting their heads and ceasing their growling. Shiro stood with his sword raised uncertainly. The note sounded again, louder and more insistent, almost like…a plea. And then, to his utter astonishment, the wolves backed away and bounded off into the forest.

Shiro didn’t know what to do with his sword. What had just driven off an entire pack of faery wolves with two _sounds_? Not something friendly, surely...and not something he wanted to cross.

A pair of softly glowing blue eyes emerged from the shadows. Shiro cursed and held his sword high, dropping the lantern. “You,” he breathed. “Why…what do you want?!”

The eyes blinked, quick, and just as quickly they came closer, and Shiro saw a silhouette darting up the nearest tree, the eyes never leaving him. “You should be apologizing, not demanding,” it said, sounding distinctly…peeved. And also male, Shiro thought. “I just saved your life even though you poked me with that pointy hook in my river. That hurt, you know.”

“Saved my life?” Shiro said incredulously.

“Well, of course,” it (he?) retorted. He swore he saw the silhouette puff its chest out a little, as if in indignation or pride or both. “Faery wolves listen to fae, silly human. I didn’t want you to stab them with your sword and I didn’t want them to eat you, either. So I sent them away.”

“Why…” Shiro shook his head. “Why wouldn’t you want them to eat me?”

The silhouette shifted. “Er…I find you interesting. You have white hair and an iron arm. Why do you have an iron arm?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Shiro snapped, raising it. The silhouette flinched back and for some reason, he felt bad about it. “Your kind burnt my first arm off, that’s why. Here to try to take the other one?”

The silhouette was still sort of cowering. “…No,” he said after a beat. “I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt, that’s all.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t be here,” Shiro said in exasperation. “My unit isn’t here just to go fishing, you know. If we find you, we’ll kill you.”

“You found me,” he said in a small voice. “I’m still alive.”

“Don’t tempt me to try to throw this sword at you,” Shiro warned.

“You’re still alive, too,” he mumbled. “You’re welcome.” And before Shiro could say another word or turn the sword into an impromptu javelin, the blue eyes and their owner were gone.

Shiro hissed through his teeth in irritation. What was this thing, and why was it toying with him like this? Clearly it had been lying, no fae wanted nobody to get hurt…unless…Shiro’s eyes widened. Unless Blue Eyes was a healer. Faery healers were exceedingly rare and difficult for soldiers to encounter, let alone capture – they were usually heavily guarded and kept far behind enemy lines, because they were a vital part of fae society. To think that Blue Eyes might have been a healer, and been so close, only to keep slipping away…

A scream rang out in the darkness, the scream of a man in pain. Shiro didn’t even think before running towards it, realizing as he ran that it must be one of the others on perimeter patrol. He ran through names in his head – Kolivan, Haxus, Tagor, Modoch, Rolo –

It was Rolo.

He only knew from the glimpse of ragged white hair stained with blood – the rest of his body was gone, dragged off by faery wolves. His gut twisted. _It should have been me,_ he thought. _It was going to be me._

And then Blue Eyes had to go and save him. A faery, saving a human, he’d never heard of something so absurd. And it was absurd, because that wasn’t what had happened – someone else had just been killed and eaten instead.

The others on patrol arrived at the scene soon after, except for Tagor, whose head and armor was also found in his section, covered in blood and clawmarks. As the others carried the remains back to camp, Shiro lingered in the area, looking at the treetops and glaring. “You said you were going to send them away,” he said, and if he had not turned and walked off so quickly, he would have seen a contrite glimmer of blue above his head.

*

The fourth time happened less than a week later. Three days, to be exact. Blue Eyes just couldn’t seem to stay away.

But it would have been better for him if he had.

Shiro was on active patrol, fully armed with both bow and sword, accompanied by Thace, Ulaz, and Sendak. Thace and Ulaz were good company; Sendak was not, and Shiro had resigned himself to hearing one more sensationalized account of Sendak’s “heroic” battle moments when he saw something in a clearing just up ahead and put an iron finger to his lips. The group fell into tense, trained silence, all of them squinting at the clearing.

Sendak’s remaining eye widened. “Bloody fae,” he hissed. “What the hell are they doing, just sitting out in the open like that? Who do they think they are?”

“To be fair, this is their land,” Ulaz said mildly. Sendak shot him a disgusted look.

“It could be a trap,” Thace murmured. “How many?”

“There’s three of them,” Shiro noted.

“Four of us,” Sendak growled, a glint to his eye.

“Any guesses as to classifications?” Ulaz asked.

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Hmm…one small, one medium, one pretty big. Big one might be earth elemental…small one looks like an imp or maybe a flower faery. Medium one is…” Shiro trailed off.

“Looks like a nixie to me,” Thace said, glancing at Shiro meaningfully. “Loose clothing, dark skin, longer ears, all typical of a water class.”

“A nixie?” Sendak scowled. “Nasty little fuckers. Sharp teeth and even sharper tongues. Awhile back, I was part of the campaign that poisoned the Arusian River, and all the little nixies just came floating up to the surface like dead fish –”

“Quiet,” Shiro hissed. “If we’re going to catch them, we can’t let them see us.”

“Catch them?” Sendak repeated. “You don’t catch fae, you kill them.”

“These three look like they’re up to something, Shiro’s right,” Thace said.

“We can always kill them later,” Shiro added when Sendak still grumbled. That seemed to cheer him up, the sick bastard.

The three of them split up and approached the faery trio from all sides, closing in on the clearing silently with weapons in hand. Shiro had his bow notched, Sendak had his axe at the ready, and Thace and Ulaz had their swords. Shiro hadn’t meant to be, but he was on the side closest to Blue Eyes. He could only see him from the back, still hadn’t gotten a good look at his face…he had medium brown skin and hair a shade darker, short and slightly wavy, and he was long-limbed and willowy as most water fae were.

There was something around his neck, Shiro saw as he stepped closer – a cord of some kind? His heart leapt. Could it be his pendant, the key to a faery’s magic and the key to successfully trapping them? Most fae didn’t wear their pendants in such obvious places, but Blue Eyes seemed like he was bold and foolish enough to do so. Perfect.

Shiro was so close. So, so close, he could almost reach out and lift the pendant right off of Blue Eyes’ head –

Sendak burst into the clearing with a bellow and his axe, followed by Thace and Ulaz on the other sides. The fae cried out and leapt to their feet in a panic, and Blue Eyes whirled around and faced him and. And. Shiro almost dropped his bow in shock.

Many fae were beautiful, but Blue Eyes was the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

He would have been more beautiful, probably, if his eyes hadn’t been wide with terror and his mouth hanging open in surprise as he recognized Shiro.

Sendak roared and tried to hit the large one with his axe, only for the creature to scurry away with a frightened yelp – he wasn’t an earth elemental after all, apparently. And the small one definitely wasn’t a flower faery – she snarled and made a violent motion with her hands that sent roots bursting from the ground, wrapping around Sendak’s legs and holding him briefly in place, enough time for the big faery to get away. Thace and Ulaz closed in, though, working together to corner the dryad and the big faery.

Blue Eyes was backing away from Shiro, stumbling on a tree root but not quite falling. He held his hands out, palms up, and Shiro noticed they were shaking. He also noticed that Lance did, indeed, have his pendant around his neck – dark sapphire, just like his eyes. “Please,” he whispered, shaking his head, “please, don’t do this!”

“Lance!” the big faery screamed, his voice ringing out through the forest. The very trees seemed to bow inwards in concern for the fae, and Shiro knew they needed to finish this quickly. But he also knew that Blue Eyes’ name was apparently Lance, and at the time that seemed more important.

“Hunk, Pidge, get out of here,” Lance said out of the corner of his mouth, gaze not leaving Shiro’s. “Go!”

“We’re not leaving you!” the dryad, Pidge, exclaimed.

“You have to!” Lance retorted desperately. Sendak was almost free of his roots and Lance was almost backed up against a tree. “On my count.”

“No!” Hunk cried.

“Yes,” Lance said, his voice flat, devoid of its previous emotion. “Three, two, _one_.”

Lance raised his hands higher and a hail of razor-sharp icicles flew through the air, embedding themselves in everything they touched, including Sendak, Thace, and Ulaz’s armor. Somehow, they all missed Shiro, but they didn’t miss Thace and Ulaz’s swords – the ice formed around the blades in impenetrable blocks that weighed them down to the point of uselessness, and Pidge and Hunk dashed off into the forest as the soldiers struggled to lift their swords. Sendak broke free of the roots with a furious roar, and in the moment of distraction Lance tried to run off. Again.

Shiro wasn’t having it, not this time, and as Lance sprinted away into the forest he shot his arrow.

Shiro never missed.

The arrow thudded into the bark of an old ash tree, but more importantly, into the cord around Lance’s neck, pinning it and his pendant to the tree. Lance frantically tried to pull it free but Sendak stopped him with a huge hand around his neck, squeezing until the faery stopped struggling with a weak gasp, hands falling limp at his sides.

“You’re our prisoner now,” Sendak informed him, leering smugly. “And you’re going to tell us everything we want to know, and do everything we want you to do, or we’ll smash your pretty little pendant and your even prettier little skull into a thousand pieces.”

Lance gulped, his lower lip trembling as he looked at his captors, the color draining out of his face.

Fear didn’t suit him, Shiro decided, his chest feeling oddly heavy. “Come on, let’s head back,” he said sharply, pulling his arrow from the tree and Lance’s pendant with it, the jewel warm in his palm. Lance whimpered as the cord around his neck snapped, and slumped in Sendak’s grasp, defeated.

Shiro was struck by the strange urge to assure Lance that his pendant would be safe with him.

Even stranger, he was struck by the urge to actually keep it safe.

*

There was a great deal of fanfare as they brought Lance into the camp. Some of the fight had returned to him on the journey back, and he bared his teeth at the soldiers as they passed – his teeth _were_ very sharp, jagged like a little shark’s. He stopped abruptly, however, when they brought him to Prince Lotor.

Shiro didn’t want to, but they had no choice – all fae prisoners had to be presented to Lotor first, to decide what should be done with them. Shiro had a sinking feeling that he already knew what Lotor’s judgment would be for Lance, and as they dropped the nixie at the prince’s feet, the curl of his lips and the shine in his eyes only furthered Shiro’s apprehension.

“What do we have here?” Lotor asked coolly, nudging Lance with his boot. Lance hissed and flinched back, still held by Thace and Ulaz. “A nixie?” His gaze sharpened and he reached down, grabbing Lance’s jaw and forcing his head up, eyes widening as Lance struggled. “Not just a nixie. A _healer_.”

Low murmurs filled the tent, dispelled with a single wave of Lotor’s hand. Lance had gone still, the terror in his face increasing tenfold. Lotor clicked his tongue. “Oh, did you honestly think I wouldn’t discover your secret? I know your kind’s magic…though it seems you’re unable to use it now.” Lotor’s gaze drifted to Shiro. “Shirogane, I am…surprised but glad to see you taking such initiative in this fae’s capture. You have his pendant?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Shiro said.

Lotor’s eyebrow arched when Shiro did not immediately procure it. “Is it just me, Shirogane, or are you a little possessive over this one?”

Lance tensed, looking at Shiro and then back at the ground, shoulders hunched and shivering.  
“Your Highness, I think that would be an apt description,” Thace cut in, surprising both the prince and Shiro. “You see, this nixie has been following Shiro for several weeks now, or so it seemed.”

Lance winced. Lotor pursed his lips. “Following? Why was I not informed of this?”

“I was unsure of his motives, Your Highness,” Shiro explained quickly. “I thought it might be a coincidence at first. But then…” Shiro folded his arms. “I captured him because I think he may have information that could help us. If he really is a spy, he certainly will.”

Lotor smiled, thin and sharp. “I see. And you want to get that information out of him, don’t you?”

Shiro swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “Yes, Your Highness. I have…more than a few ideas on how to do so.” Everyone in the vicinity chuckled at that. Lance was shaking like a leaf.  
“Do you, now,” Lotor drawled, but he was amused, not mocking. “Good, very good, Shirogane. I will entrust this rare little gem to you and two others, more…seasoned in this sort of thing. Take him to the interrogation tent…and bring him to me when you’re done. Dismissed.”

Shiro’s head swam. Two others? Fuck, this was not good. Especially not good when he saw who the two others were – Myzax and Prorok, two brutish grunts who wouldn’t hesitate to interrogate Lance in exactly the way Lotor had in mind. Shiro tried to stay calm as he grabbed ahold of Lance and started dragging him off towards the tent with the two other soldiers in tow.

_Think, think,_ he told himself, _you can’t let them stay in the tent with you._ He didn’t know what to do with Lance, but he did know that he wasn’t going to let the soldiers touch him.

Shiro had the beginnings of an idea, but Lance was going to hate him for it. Better than the alternative, he told himself.

Lance stumbled forward into the tent as Shiro pushed him in, refusing to look at any of them, fear coming off of him in waves. The two soldiers followed them inside, both sneering and ogling Lance speculatively as the faery curled in on himself, bound hands twitching uselessly behind his back.

“He sure is a pretty one,” Prorok said. “Look at that skin – so smooth it almost glows. Bet it’s soft, too. This’ll be a fun one to mark up, huh?”

Shiro steeled himself and yanked Lance around, the faery letting out a terrified yelp as he was pressed hard up against Shiro’s front, Shiro’s flesh arm tight around his waist. “This one’s mine,” Shiro told them, low and dangerous. Their eyes widened, taken aback – Shiro was not known for aggressive displays like they were, and they didn’t seem to know how to react. Lance was breathing shallowly; Shiro could feel his pulse beating fast and frantic in his chest like a caged bird. “You can wait outside if you really want, but I’ll be the one _interrogating_ him. You two have had more than your fair share, and I found this one first anyway.”

Myzax blinked dumbly. “But Prince Lotor said –”

“If Prince Lotor is displeased with my tactics, it will not be your problem,” Shiro promised. “Besides…I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve.” He hesitated, and before he could talk himself out of it, wrapped his iron hand around Lance’s bare neck.

Lance screamed in pain, jerking violently as the metal seared his skin. Prorok nodded hastily. “Alright, alright, he’s yours. But, uh…don’t hesitate to call us in if you need to give him anymore…persuasion.”

“Understood,” Shiro said grimly, removing his hand from Lance’s neck. The faery slumped, the skin reddened and raw where Shiro had touched him. Shiro waited until Prorok and Myzax had left, tying the tent flaps shut behind them, before releasing Lance. The faery crumpled to the ground, which was covered by a rough burlap tarp that scratched at his delicate skin. He didn’t look at Shiro, and squeezed his eyes shut when Shiro cautiously reached out to touch his face.

He didn’t use the iron hand to do so, and Lance seemed startled by this, his eyes opening cautiously at the gentle contact. “I’m sorry,” Shiro said, and Lance’s brows drew together in confusion. “I had to get them out of here, and they would have hurt you far more than my hand did.”

Lance swallowed, searching his gaze. “Do…do you mean to say you’re not going to hurt me anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said honestly. “Will you answer my questions?”

“Depends on the questions,” Lance said guardedly.

“Why were you watching me?”

Lance flushed. “I…I already said. I find you interesting.”

“Why?”

“The…the arm, and your hair, I –”

“You were watching me bathe,” Shiro said and Lance flushed redder, ears lowering in embarrassment.

“I…was, yes.” Lance sniffled, hunching his shoulders. “Am I not allowed to look at attractive men?”

Shiro faltered. “What?”

“I was watching you because I find you very attractive!” Lance hissed.

Shiro blanched. “You’re lying, that doesn’t make sense, why would a faery…”

“Not all faery are disgusted by humans,” Lance mumbled. “I’m not lying. You are…quite handsome. The most handsome human I have ever seen.”

“You let those wolves kill other men because you find me nice to look at?” Shiro demanded, mildly horrified, though perhaps not as horrified as he should have been.

“No!” Lance exclaimed. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get killed, I tried to tell them to leave but they were too hungry; not through any fault of mine but because you humans drove them out of their original territory!”

Shiro regarded him suspiciously. He looked and sounded sincere, but fae were notoriously good at feigning innocence. Still…there were actual tears shining in Lance’s eyes, and despite himself, Shiro wanted to believe him. “What about your friends?” he asked. “Hunk and Pidge. What were you three doing when we found you?”

“It’s our forest,” Lance snapped, some of his previous bravado returning. “We don’t need to explain ourselves to you humans!”

Shiro frowned. As much as he wanted to argue with that, he…really couldn’t. They were invaders here, no way around that. “Fine,” he said, sitting back on his heels.

Lance eyed him nervously. “…Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” Shiro grumbled. “I’m not here to hurt you, and you seem like you’re telling the truth. At least mostly. But…” He sighed. “My plan didn’t really go past getting the other soldiers out of the tent, and they’re going to want some evidence that I really did interrogate you like I said I would. Any brilliant ideas, faery?”

Lance bit his lip. “Er,” he said, ducking his head. “The easiest solution would be to just. Fuck me. Right?”

Shiro gawked at him. “Sorry, _what?_ ”

Lance huffed, looking up at him impatiently. “That is the method of interrogation you were referring to, correct? Ravishing me with all your might until I spill all my secrets? Well, just do it, no need to pretend. Ravish me.”

“Are…are you giving me an invitation, here, or –” Shiro shook his head. “I’m not like Myzax and Prorok, I wouldn’t actually force myself upon anyone, not even a faery –”

“It’s not forcing yourself upon me if I ask you to,” Lance reasoned. “And I’m asking you to. So, there.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with you finding me attractive, would it?” Shiro said dryly.

“How clever of you,” Lance said. “Yes, it does, Shiro. That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Shiro said. “You really want me to fuck you.”

“Yes, Shiro,” Lance said. “I do.”

Shiro’s gaze drifted to a long, low table, the only furniture in the room. It was covered with various torture implements, but there was also a half-empty jar of sword oil upon it. That would have to do. As he hauled Lance to his feet and led him over to the table, Shiro was at once aware of exactly how long it had been since he’d had a good fuck.

Not to say that fucking a faery in an interrogation tent in the middle of a Galra camp was a good fuck, per se. Shiro was still inclined to err on the side of caution around him – many fae had been known to seduce unwitting humans and bring about their demises as soon as the human’s guard was down. Although Lance wasn’t in much of a position to bring about anyone’s demise – Shiro had his pendant, his hands were fully restrained, and he was surrounded by enemies. So then why was he willing to trust Shiro?

“Why are you letting me do this?” Shiro asked him, doubting Lance would reveal any truths but wanting to try anyway.

Lance looked firmly at the floor. “Better you than them,” he mumbled. “I…I don’t know. I think you’re different from the other Galra soldiers.”

“Different,” Shiro repeated. “How?”

“Any anger you may feel towards my kind is not unfounded, I think.” Lance’s gaze settled heavy on his iron arm before drifting back to the floor. “Clearly fae have caused you pain; I know we are capable of doing terrible harm. Many humans, though…kill just for the sake of killing. I think sometimes men simply enjoy destroying beautiful things.”

“You are a beautiful thing,” Shiro said without thinking.

Lance glanced up at him in surprise, his gaze darkening, looking at Shiro through his lashes. “And would you enjoy destroying me?”

In reply, Shiro unsheathed the knife from his belt and cut Lance’s loose tunic away from his body, taking care not to let the iron touch his skin. Lance seemed to notice this and stayed carefully still as the sheer fabric fell to the ground in tatters. His pants were equally loose and flowing, less sheer, and though the temptation was great Shiro didn’t rip them off, just unlaced them until they fell, puddling around Lance’s ankles in a pile of gauzy blue.

The faery was gorgeous everywhere, his brown skin smooth and shining, speckled with typical nixie markings in the form of bright blue dapples on his shoulders, calves, forearms, hips, and cheekbones. His form was tall, slender, and leanly muscled with soft flesh at his stomach, thighs, and ass; curvy in a way that was almost feminine. The rousing cock between his legs was not, though, long and slender with an attractively rounded head, dusky rose peeking out from the dark foreskin. His balls looked soft and were strangely hairless – fae tended to be, but Shiro had never seen it for himself. There was a small nest of dark curls at the base of his cock, though they looked softer than any human’s. He fought the urge to touch and tore his gaze away.

Lance went easily to the ground again when Shiro nudged him down and stayed there as Shiro shed his armor. It was…a process.

Lance looked at him over his shoulder halfway through. “You humans have the most inconvenient clothing,” he complained. “I don’t know how you can stand to be waddling about with such awful clanking sounds like metal turtles on two legs…oh.”

Shiro shed his jacket, baring his arms and his half-laced tunic, and then opened his belt and pants, shoving them down enough to reveal his cock, thicker and paler than Lance’s, surrounded by thick black hair that continued in a line up to his bellybutton. Lance’s lips parted. “I think I’ve removed everything iron that I was wearing,” Shiro told him. “But you’ll have to tell me if…are you even listening?”

“No,” Lance said, mouth still open, sharp teeth somehow _retracting_ , replaced by very human ones. “Can I suck your cock?”

Shiro almost fell over. “I –”

“Shirogane, it’s awfully quiet in there!” Prorok called from outside. “Need some help –?”

The tent flaps opened. Shiro grabbed Lance’s head and shoved his half-hard cock into Lance’s mouth. The faery made a loud, strangled sound, wide shocked eyes watering as Shiro fucked his throat, hand fisted sharply in his short hair and preventing him from moving an inch.

Prorok stopped, and grinned. “Excuse the interruption,” he snorted, backing out. Just before the tent closed, Shiro heard him say to Myzax, “Explains why it was so quiet, he shut that thing up, alright,” the soldiers’ guffaws filling the air.

Shiro released his unyielding grip on Lance’s head, expecting the faery to jerk away at once, but Lance made a low, muffled moaning sound and just kept sucking messily, drool running down his chin and dripping over Shiro’s balls. “You…like this?” Shiro managed, because fuck, how was this his life now?

Lance was just _taking_ it, throat opening to the shallow thrusts of Shiro’s hips. He moaned again when Shiro’s hand returned to his hair, this time to stroke, not hold. Shiro let his nails scratch lightly over Lance’s scalp and felt his cock swell into full hardness between Lance’s lips. Thoughtlessly, he reached out to cradle Lance’s jaw in the palm of his right hand, forgetting it was a faery between his legs until Lance gasped and almost bit him, Shiro’s cock falling from his mouth heavier and slicker than before.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” Shiro apologized. “Are you alright?”

Lance’s gaze flicked up to him, considering, and he gave a small nod before leaning in again to lap at the head of Shiro’s cock softly as if in forgiveness. He drew back after a few moments and whispered, “You’ll need to leave a few burns on me anyway, if our façade is to be believed. You’ll need to hurt me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Shiro retorted, surprised at himself but feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness towards this little faery. It likely had something to do with how good his mouth looked around Shiro’s cock, but Lance looked flattered nonetheless.

“Hmm,” Lance mused, giving his cock one last lick. “I suppose there are ways it could be faked, but I doubt you’d want to go to all that trouble, might as well just get it over with – ah!”

Shiro had flipped Lance onto his stomach, urging him to tuck his knees under him before opening the jar of sword oil and dipping his fingers in – using his left hand, of course, Shiro shuddered to even think about using his iron fingers for this task. Lance waited tensely, expression confused as he looked back at Shiro, sharpening with shocked realization when Shiro’s slick fingers breached him, two sliding easily into tight heat with the help of the oil.

Lance’s back arched and he let out a needy whine, deepening to a moan when Shiro’s fingers curled and stretched him open. _He certainly is noisy,_ Shiro thought, glancing at the closed tent entrance worriedly. If Prorok walked in on him fucking Lance with oiled fingers, he wouldn’t be so quick to leave.

“Lance,” he said, leaning over the nixie’s back and noticing that the blue spots ran up his spine, too. They almost seemed to glow, when the light shifted. “ _Lance._ ”

“Uh-huh,” Lance moaned, face pressed against the burlap, bound hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his own palms. “Wha – aah – t?”

Shiro sighed. “I’m glad this feels good for you, but could you possibly sound a little less blissful and a little more agonized?”

Lance chortled breathlessly into the burlap. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to open me up so nice and slow, human.”

Shiro crooked his fingers hard against what he hoped was the right spot – come to think of it, did fae even have prostates?

Lance _shouted_. Yes. Yes, they did.

“Okay, okay,” he gasped, “I can do agonized, I can – just fuck me already, would you, enough of your chivalrous nonsense!”

Shiro drew out the preparation for a minute or two more anyway, just to make sure, until Lance was shifting around and pushing his ass back onto Shiro’s three fingers and Shiro couldn’t take it anymore. He thrust into Lance as hard as he dared, hard enough to make Lance howl and writhe under him. It really was disconcerting to hear him sobbing and cursing like he was in the worst pain of his life, and Shiro faltered, uncertain.

“Move, Shiro, fuck; fucking fuck me, please,” Lance chanted under his breath before going right back to his theatrical hysterics. Shiro did, relieved, leaning close against Lance’s back and feeling the faery shudder under him, squeaking in surprise when Shiro’s lips brushed the pointed tip of one long ear. Shiro curiously licked at it and Lance whimpered, tilting his head to the side for better access as Shiro covered the apparently sensitive skin with wet kisses and light nips.

He kept his right arm braced off to the side, away from Lance’s body and holding himself up as he reached under Lance and took his neglected cock in hand. Lance cried out and thrust into his grip as Shiro began to thrust into him in earnest, his sounds increasing in volume and fake anguish all the while.

Shiro was so, so hard, whole body flushed hot with arousal, focused only on Lance’s pliant, lovely body under him, squirming on his cock and pleading so prettily for him. Distantly, he thought he could hear the guards snickering outside again, but he could care less. He squeezed Lance’s cock and flicked his thumb firmly over the head and Lance keened, the sound becoming a broken sob halfway through.

“Good, you’re so good,” Shiro growled into his ear, punctuating the praise with a sharp bite to the lobe, and Lance sobbed louder.

Shiro wished he could free Lance’s wrists, but if he wasn’t mistaken the faery seemed to actually enjoy being trapped under him, and made no attempts to stop anything, just begged for more. As he fucked Lance harder he mapped out the expanse of Lance’s neck and shoulders with his mouth; soothing the burn mark on his neck with his tongue, sucking bruises everywhere else he could reach, hoping they could pass for marks made in violence instead of passion.

It had been a long time since he’d lain with anyone, but even longer since he’d felt anything other than carnal hunger while doing so. The protective urge he’d felt towards Lance was even stronger now, stronger still as Lance bit the burlap rug, screamed, and came in a hot splatter of white over Shiro’s knuckles, slumping and mewling weakly as Shiro fucked him through it. He held Lance up with one hand to stop him from collapsing completely and leaned as close to his face as possible.

“Do you want me to keep going –”

“Don’t you dare stop,” Lance retorted, his cock twitching and mouth falling open helplessly as Shiro rubbed at it, slicking it up with Lance’s own cum. “Please – please, don’t stop –”

“Shh, I won’t,” Shiro murmured, kissing his ear, letting his stubble brush against Lance’s perfectly smooth cheek.

“Wait,” Lance gasped, “wait, I have an idea – can you put your fingers in my mouth? Not the iron ones, obviously, just –”

Confused, Shiro did, and without any warning Lance bit down on them, and _his teeth were not human anymore, fucking ow._ “Augh!” Shiro exclaimed, yanking his fingers from Lance’s damn bear trap of a mouth. They were bleeding. “What was that for?!”

“Put it on my skin,” Lance told him. “So they think you hurt me.”

“ _You_ hurt me,” Shiro grumbled, dragging his bloodied fingers over Lance’s back and then, after a moment of hesitation, smearing them across his inner thighs and around where his cock split Lance wide. “Already lost an arm, don’t need missing fingers, too.”

“I wouldn’t have bitten your finger off,” Lance mumbled, lashes fluttering as Shiro slowed the pace while painting his skin with the drying blood. “I _could_ , though.” He had his head turned to the side on the floor and looked up at Shiro blearily. “Your blood is still in my mouth.”

Frowning, Shiro cautiously put a finger in Lance’s mouth again, bracing himself for another bite and only getting a slight, accidental scrape of fangs and Lance’s tongue curling briefly around the tip before he withdrew it, dripping with residual red and spit. He streaked it across Lance’s sides and over his ass, indulging in an appreciative squeeze while he was at it and making Lance tighten around him.

“Y’still need to burn me again,” Lance reminded him, nodding to Shiro’s right arm. “I can take it, don’t look so anxious.”

“I don’t want to hurt you like…this,” Shiro mumbled, still rolling his hips and playing with Lance’s slowly hardening cock. He’d smeared cum all over Lance’s thighs and ass along with the blood, though he thought that might’ve been excessive.

Lance raised a thin eyebrow. “Like this? What, you mean, tied up and impaled on your cock? Some people are into that, y’know.” Shiro gave him a look. Lance huffed. “Must you be so noble, Shiro? The iron doesn’t hurt too terribly, and it will heal in time, so just – mmph!”

Lotor strode in, and Shiro had only his shadow as a split-second warning. It was just enough time for him to push Lance’s head into the burlap and start fucking him as hard as before. He’d pushed Lance’s head with the iron hand and could only hope and pray that his hair shielded his skin from the burns.

The tent flap fluttered shut behind Lotor as he stood and appraised the situation; perverted, greedy man that he was. Shiro raised an eyebrow at him and Lance whimpered pitifully, trembling and squirming in humiliation as Shiro’s cock drove deeper. “Yes, Your Highness?” Shiro grunted.

“Tsk, tsk, you really have changed, Takashi Shirogane,” Lotor chuckled, finger on his chin, seemingly fascinated. “But I suppose war does that to even the best of men. And you have every reason to hate these cruel, spiteful creatures; honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep such a tight rein on your rage all these years.” Lotor’s lips quirked. “But it seems you’ve found catharsis at last. Oh, dear, you _have_ done a number on him. More blood than I’d expect.”

“He bleeds easily,” Shiro scoffed, shoving two fingers into Lance’s mouth to hide the cuts already on them and to make Lance gag and spit up more blood, eyes rolling back in his head. “And he has a mouth on him.”

“Does he, now?” Lotor tilted his head with interest. “And has he told you anything interesting with that mouth?” It was a veiled threat, hardly veiled at all – Shiro was meant to be getting information from Lance, not fucking the living daylights out of him. And Lotor wanted that information now.

Shiro grabbed Lance’s jaw with his iron hand, mentally apologizing as the skin blistered under his touch and Lance wailed, real tears falling from his eyes this time. “Tell him what you told me,” Shiro hissed, digging his thumb into Lance’s chin. Men were often better at saying what others wanted to hear when in pain; he just hoped fae were the same.

Thankfully, Lance blurted something out. “Th-the solstice!” he sobbed. “On the solstice, Princess Allura is being crowned Queen, it’s, it’s her coronation, all the important f-fae will be there!”

“Where? Tell him!” Shiro snarled.

“On the north shore of Altea Lake, please, please let me go!” Lance cried, crumpling to the floor when Shiro released him, shoulders shaking with sobs.

“You see?” Shiro said, petting Lance’s hair with the iron hand disdainfully, trying to ignore how tense Lance’s body was around him. “He’s learning to behave already.”

“So it appears,” Lotor said, sounding vaguely impressed. “I didn’t consider the possibilities of that arm of yours, Shirogane…am I right in assuming that’s the cause of the bleeding?”

“Yes,” Shiro said, seizing the explanation. “Most of it is…internal.” Lance let out a faint, pathetic whine and even Lotor looked sympathetic for a moment.

“Hm. Well done, I suppose…that information about the solstice is very intriguing. And it’s been ages since I’ve spoken to dear Allura…perhaps we should pay her a visit on this momentous occasion.”

“No…please don’t hurt her…” Lance eked out, stopped by Shiro’s fingers twisting harshly in his hair.

Lotor nodded at Shiro. “Finish your business, and I will have one of the guards bring a healing salve to treat our poor prisoner. I will not have him getting blood all over my bedsheets.”

“I can treat him,” Shiro said. Lotor’s eyebrows arched to his hairline. “He’s still feisty, and could be dangerous – he’s scared enough of me to behave. Unless you want someone getting bitten?”

“Very well,” Lotor conceded. “Treat him, and…hmph, you might as well bring him to your own tent to rest for the night. I doubt you care about a little blood.”

“I do not, Your Highness. I’ll bring him to you in the morning, then?”

“Mm,” Lotor said. “Do tell me if he says anything else of import in the meantime.” He inclined his head, and left the tent.

Shiro’s breath came out in a rush and Lance relaxed under him at once. “Well, that was terrifying,” Lance mumbled after a long silence, and Shiro choked out a laugh. “And before you apologize, my skin is fine, though I do wish you hadn’t gone for the _face_.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said anyway, bowing his head against Lance’s shoulder. “Quick thinking with the solstice lie, though.”

Lance was quiet, his expression troubled. “It…wasn’t a lie,” he mumbled. “That’s really happening.”

“Shit,” Shiro said simply.

“Yes,” Lance agreed, closing his eyes. “And if the Galran army attacks…all the royal family and advisors and court, everyone, could be wiped out at once.” He flinched and looked up at Shiro warily. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, you’re one of them.”

“Lance, I’m not going to let Lotor get away with that,” Shiro promised. “And I’m not going to let him have you, either. I’ll help you escape tonight, when we’re in my tent, and you can go warn the other fae.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Shiro…you would do that? You would let me go?”

“It’s mostly my fault you were captured in the first place,” Shiro pointed out, and something flickered in Lance’s eyes, something like regret, or guilt, or sadness. “But yes, I’ll let you go, and return your pendant.”

Lance gave him a small, grateful smile which quickly turned devious, his hips shifting back against Shiro. The visit from Lotor had made him slightly soft because Shiro’s loathing for that man was unfathomable, but once he got back into his previous rhythm it was easy to come back to the edge, Lance’s cock hardening fully in his fist and spilling pearly beads of precum over his fingers.

Shiro had been relatively quiet thus far; he was not vocal like Lance, had learned to be quiet and stealthy even in matters like this, but he found himself panting and letting out small moans as his hips pumped faster and he breathed in Lance’s earthy, sweet scent, nuzzling into his shoulder. Lance was close to coming again, too, but Shiro beat him to it, groaning long and low in his ear as he buried his cock deep and came, grinding against Lance’s prostate and making the faery keen in wordless pleasure.

His hand wasn’t enough to sate Lance by the time his cock softened, and so Shiro carefully rolled Lance onto his back, hoping his hands wouldn’t be too crushed, and got his mouth on Lance’s cock. Lance swore and came at just the touch of Shiro’s tongue, streaking his face in white.

They both sat there for a while, breathing hard and savoring the waves of bliss as they ebbed and flowed away, leaving them exhausted and sore. Shiro laced up his pants and wiped his face off with the back of his hand, wiping that carelessly on the burlap. He turned back to Lance only for the fae to capture his face in his soft hands and kiss Shiro soundly, making a content sound when Shiro kissed him back.

It was brief, because the next moment the tent opened and Shiro was back to glaring at Lance and snatching the salve from Prorok, who eyed Lance cowering beside Shiro and let out a low whistle. “The prince seemed pleased,” he said. “Guess you got the job done after all.”

“Of course,” Shiro said, hand curling around the back of Lance’s neck and pulling the fae to him. Lance folded easily against his side, curling up and keeping his gaze lowered. “Come, Lance, don’t make me use this again.” He lifted his right hand warningly and Lance whimpered, not resisting a single step of the way as Shiro pulled him to his feet, though his knees wobbled. Shiro wasn’t sure that part was an act.

Prorok smirked. “Gonna walk him through the camp like that, show off all your hard work, eh?”

Shiro leveled him with a flat look. “I’d rather not have the other soldiers pawing at him, no,” he retorted, retrieving Lance’s pants and slipping them on for him as Prorok gawked. Shiro retrieved the rest of his clothes, including his belt with the leather pouch where he’d placed Lance’s pendant. He draped his jacket over Lance’s shoulders and Prorok’s gawking intensified. “What?” Shiro said mildly, wrapping a proprietary arm around Lance’s waist, the iron one, the leather of his jacket shielding Lance’s skin from it. “He’s finally learning obedience; I’ve no reason to punish him further for the moment.”

“He’s a faery, what more reason do you need,” Prorok muttered, folding his arms and shaking his head. “Don’t go easy on him now, Shirogane, those bastards will turn on you whenever they get the chance.”

“Really?” Shiro squeezed Lance’s waist and the faery feigned a gasp of pain, head bowing. “I think I fucked the fight out of this one.” Lance buried his quiet snicker in Shiro’s tunic.

“Alright, alright,” Prorok said. “Go take your pet away; Prince Lotor wanted me to tell you to restrain yourself tonight, he doesn’t want a mangled mess in the morning.”

“As I said, I’ve no reason to cause further harm,” Shiro said, though he was inwardly seething. As if Lotor cared about a single shred of Lance’s wellbeing. “Tell the Prince he can rest easy. ‘Til tomorrow, Prorok.” He nodded curtly and marched Lance out of the tent.

They were going to draw attention no matter what, so Shiro just kept his head high and kept Lance close to him as they returned to his tent. Lance was obviously nervous about being around so many humans, strong and armed human men at that; and Shiro lowered his head to murmur, “We’re going to have to walk a bit of a ways, I’m afraid; my tent is on the other side of camp.”

Lance bit his lip. “How big is this camp?”

“Big,” Shiro said, and Lance’s mouth twisted. “Sorry, can’t be revealing military secrets to you.”

“Prince Lotor is in command here?” Lance asked tentatively a few minutes later.

“Yes. Many of us here are high-ranking, experienced soldiers.”

“And are you?”

Shiro nodded. “A senior lieutenant, yes. Ah, and so is Thace. Don’t worry.”

Thace approached them cautiously, giving Lance a sidelong look and frowning at Shiro. The other soldiers quickly pretended to not be looking as they passed by. “Shiro,” he greeted, keeping his voice low and falling into step beside him. “You certainly took your time.” There was an accusatory note to his voice and Shiro winced.

“It’s not…Thace, he’s alright,” Shiro muttered. “I got Prorok and Myzax out of there before they could so much as lay a finger on him.”

“But you did,” Thace retorted. Definitely accusatory. “I’m not blind, Shiro, there’s blood and burn marks all over him…among other substances.”

“My blood,” Shiro explained, showing him his bitten fingers. “Lance’s idea, he has sharp teeth.”

“Lance,” Thace repeated, incredulous now, looking at Lance fully. “And the burn marks?”

“I told him to do that,” Lance said, startling Thace. He kept his head down, but Shiro could see the faint curl of a smile. “Your friend did not hurt me as the other soldiers would have. He is…a good man.”

Shiro barely managed to stop himself from tripping over his own feet. As it was, he just cleared his throat awkwardly while Thace’s eyebrows rose higher. “Happy to hear it,” he finally said, clapping Shiro on the shoulder and nodding to Lance. “Goodnight; ‘til tomorrow, my friend.”

Several minutes later they reached Shiro’s tent, medium-sized with simple but comfortable furnishings inside. As soon as they were enclosed in the tent together, Shiro took his jacket off of Lance and cut the ropes from around his wrists. Lance hissed as they were freed, blinking when Shiro took ahold of them and rubbed them gently between his hands. “The ropes were cutting off blood circulation, this helps to get it flowing again,” he explained quietly. “It probably hurts now, but they will feel normal soon.”

“Thank you,” Lance said, looking at him with an unreadable expression. “I meant what I said to Thace. You are a good man, Shiro – certainly better than I expected from this place.”

Shiro frowned and didn’t reply, just went to the washbasin and wet a soapy cloth to rinse Lance off. Lance took it from him, though, and began doing it himself, snatching the bottle of salve from him too. “Don’t look so put out, silly, I can take care of myself, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know,” Shiro sighed, looking away.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, what now, why are you pouting?”

“I’m not – ugh. Just get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to take a nap.” Shiro felt Lance’s eyes on him and ignored it as he shed his tunic and removed his iron arm, setting it onto the table with a loud _clunk._ Lance was staring, now. Shiro went to bed and threw his blanket over himself hastily, staring at the slowly darkening canvas wall. There were sounds of fabric rustling, and then Lance slipped under the blankets with him, still shirtless, smelling faintly of soap.

“I didn’t know it could come off,” Lance whispered, sounding uncertain. 

Shiro didn’t roll over to face him. “It has to come off,” he said shortly. “It would rot off, otherwise.”

Lance sucked in a sharp breath. “How…how do you control it?”

“Sensors, magic, I don’t know,” Shiro muttered. “The Emperor’s wife, Honerva, crafted it years ago.”

“I have heard she is a witch,” Lance said.

“No,” Shiro said. “A very gifted alchemist. Who may dabble in magic on occasion. I don’t know, I don’t care, she just gave me my arm back.”

“Is that why you serve in the Galran army?” Lance asked. “Because of what was lost by the fae, and returned by the humans?”

“I serve in the Galran army because I am a human,” Shiro retorted.

Lance made a small, doubtful sound. “I have met kind humans before,” he said. “There were three little girls who used to play beside my river often; I watched them grow into women and wives and mothers on the banks of my river. They always brought me sweets and little trinkets, and I gave them the prettiest water lilies and polished pebbles I could find, and let their father and their sons fish in my river as much as they liked. And for the record, _they_ never tried to snag me with an iron hook.”

“Well, isn’t that charming,” Shiro said under his breath.

“It was,” Lance retorted, defensive. “Humans and fae can live together in peace, Shiro. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Huh, maybe I should’ve told that to my family while they burned alive,” Shiro said. “Wonder why I didn’t think of that.”

“Shiro –” Lance reached out and touched the remnant of his arm. Before his fingers even made contact, Shiro had rolled onto his back and grabbed Lance’s wrist tightly. Lance’s eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, just another reminder of what exactly he was sharing his bed with. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sincere and serious. “I’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Shiro said, but there was no bite to it. He was tired, in more ways than one. “Just go to sleep and stop asking questions I won’t answer.”

“The sun is setting,” Lance said. There was an orange glow through the canvas, faint, blocked by the trees. “I will have to leave, soon.”

Shiro exhaled and closed his eyes. “Yes. Let me sleep awhile, first.” _Stay a little longer, so we can pretend._

“I don’t want to have to fight you,” Lance whispered, and he was shuffling closer, laying a hand upon Shiro’s chest gingerly and tracing idly over the scars there when Shiro didn’t stop him. “You are a good man.”

“Shut up,” Shiro said through gritted teeth, “and sleep.”

“I’m very sorry about this, Shiro,” Lance murmured, and before Shiro could so much as sit up, Lance had ripped the leather pouch from Shiro’s belt and had his pendant back in his hands, its brilliant light illuminating the tent blindingly. Shiro had no choice but to shield his eyes, cursing and jumping out of bed, but when he grabbed for the faint silhouette of Lance he got nothing but a handful of sharp icicles, pricking his palm with cold.

There was a chorus of shouts from outside and Shiro stumbled out, being sure to stand with his right side hidden inside, staring in dismay at the glowing shards of ice embedded in the earth and the now-distant figure running back to the trees.

Lance never looked back.

The ice cracked and melted in Shiro’s fist as quickly as he had gone.

*

It was only later than he realized the bite on his fingers had been healed.

*

_Three Months Later_

“I miss horses,” Ulaz sighed as they trudged through the forest, the sounds of armor clanking and men talking filling the warm air.

“Horses are no good in the Wilds, you know that,” Thace admonished. He had an arm around Ulaz’s shoulders, and thought he was being subtle, but he hadn’t moved his arm for at least an hour. Shiro had always seen right through their façade, anyway.

“Better than walking the whole way,” Ulaz groused, but he leaned more into Thace and that seemed to brighten his spirits.

“At least it’s the summer solstice and not the winter,” Shiro added. “Walking through snow is worse.”

“I like snow,” Ulaz countered. “This heat is worse, and there are so many bugs. Big ones, too.”

Another soldier fell into step beside them – Sendak, because of course it was. “Almost like the damn fae know we’re coming,” he grumbled. “Maybe if a certain little nixie whore hadn’t escaped, we wouldn’t be sufferin’ so much, huh?”

Shiro tried to tell himself that punching fellow soldiers was a serious offense and not worth it. Luckily Thace saved him from replying. “Sendak, don’t be an idiot. The fae don’t control the weather, that’s called the seasons, not magic.”

“Same difference,” Sendak grunted. “Dunno why we’re even going, they’re obviously not going to be where the nixie said they’d be. If they’re smart, they’ll be a thousand miles from here.”

“Prince Lotor seems very confident that they’ll be there,” Ulaz said.

“Prince Lotor is confident even through his follies,” Thace replied. “Let us just hope that everything goes according to plan. I believe we’re almost there…?”

“Ay, why have we stopped?” Sendak demanded, using his frankly ridiculous height to peer over the other soldiers. “Something wrong in the vanguard?”

Murmurs were spreading through the troops, and they waited tensely until the word reached them. “Apparently the fae were here recently, but no more,” a young soldier told them. “Signs of festivities, like a coronation party, but no fae, not a one.”

Shiro instantly went on alert. “Are we sure?” he demanded. “Are we sure they’re not still here?”

Thace and Ulaz had gone still, too; even Sendak looked wary. “It’s a fucking trap, isn’t it,” Sendak growled as uneasiness rippled through their ranks. He turned to Shiro, single eye wide with panic and anger. “Your nixie whore led us into a fucking trap!”

Up ahead, Shiro could see Lotor’s silvery hair. There had been no sign given to attack, because there was nothing to attack. But slowly, all of the soldiers looked up at the trees.

Hundreds of glowing eyes stared back at them, and then all hell broke loose.

Shiro was unused to being thrown into the heart of battle; as an archer he tended to find a high place and avoid the worst of the fighting, but he had no time to run now. Fae rained down from the branches with cries and bursts of magic, men shouting and unsheathing swords with screeches of metal, swinging and smashing into bodies and trees and shields and other swords to create a terrific cacophony.

Shiro swung his sword half-blind, everything confusing and hectic and horrible, blood spraying through the air to his right and flesh searing with an acrid smell to his left. Ulaz and Thace had been near him but he had no idea where they were now, he hoped they were running because this was an absolute fucking mess.

It wasn’t a battle, it was a slaughter – the fae just kept coming. Shiro found himself stumbling backwards, away from the rest of the soldiers, and he wasn’t running away, he wasn’t, but his head was ringing and he had at least three gashes through his armor that were bleeding sluggishly – his mind just hadn’t caught up to the pain, yet.

_Your nixie whore led us into a fucking trap._

That he had.

Yet as Shiro looked numbly at the scene before him, he wondered if perhaps the trap had been entirely justified. The humans had been willing to slaughter the fae at the coronation ceremony of their new Queen; why then was it wrong that the humans were getting slaughtered now, instead? And it wasn’t as if there was any other way to end this, really. Lance had talked of peace and no one getting hurt but Shiro knew Prince Lotor, and he knew Lotor’s father, and he knew they would not end this war with talking. They wanted blood, and at this rate, Shiro was not sure they would ever get enough of it.

They had traipsed straight into faery lands, swords raised high, ready to rape and pillage and murder their way to victory. The fae had retaliated – and this was their retaliation. And in that moment, Shiro understood it from their perspective – saw the humans as they did, as primitive, barbaric invaders with greedy hearts and callous ways. The fae could be cruel but maybe it was because they had no other choice.

Shiro understood that. He understood being scared and angry and losing everything; he understood how easy it was to pin the blame and fight for a cause that sounded just, to fight for his people and his family and his future, to take orders from a powerful man who had helped him in a time of need and asked for only his service in return. But the Galran army had never really been about justice after all.

A familiar face caught his eye and Shiro blinked, focusing on the small faery chucking acorns at Sendak’s head. He blinked again, bewildered, and recognized her – Pidge, the dryad. Lance’s friend. His heart leapt foolishly and he took a step forward.

Pidge was fighting Sendak with a larger fae, another girl, or rather woman, with broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Her yellow eyes flashed as the earth rumbled beneath Sendak’s feet, Pidge’s roots going for his limbs and the earth elemental’s rocks pelting his torso and shoving him hard, nearly knocking him over. It was fascinating to watch fae fight, Shiro had always thought so; and as their magic swirled through the air and entangled Sendak in vines and stones and dirt, Shiro thought they might actually win.

Then Sendak swung his axe and caught the earth elemental’s head with the flat of the blade, a resounding _crack_ echoing through the air as she toppled like a felled tree, motionless on the ground. Pidge let out a furious cry, vines fighting to get a grip on Sendak’s axe, presumably to rip it from his hands, but Shiro already knew the outcome. He leapt into the fray, his sword clashing with Sendak’s axe moments before it could sink into Pidge’s skull.

Sendak’s eye widened. “Shirogane, what the hell are you doing?!” he snarled. “Get out of my way, have the fae addled your damn brain?”

“No,” Shiro said, blade scraping along the haft of the axe with a horrific squeal of metal on metal. “She’s just a kid, Sendak, look at her – you would’ve killed her.”

“A kid!” Sendak barked, shaking his head in disbelief. “There are no fucking fae _kids_ , Shiro, they’re not children, they’re monsters!”

“Try looking in a mirror sometime,” Shiro retorted. “We’re the only monsters here, Sendak.”  
“Did you forget about the entire fucking limb you’re missing?!” Sendak snapped. “Who did that to you, huh? Not humans!”

“Aye, it was a faery, but not this one,” Shiro said. “Nor any of the others here. They shouldn’t all have to die for the evils of a few.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Sendak said, and Shiro felt the moment the axe overpowered his sword, the weapon clattering out of his hands and the axe cutting downwards in a single swift stroke. He heard the tearing of metal and then the snapping of chainmail and then –

Vines yanked the axe away and Shiro fell to his knees, pain exploding in his chest, so overwhelming that he could do little more than let out a weak gasp before falling to his side heavily, watching his blood pool out on the earth. There was far too much. His vision swam with spots. There was a distant roar, a loud thud, and then small hands on his face and neck, feeling for a pulse.

“You saved me,” Pidge whispered, awed, and then a bright flare of flame exploded across his line of sight and Shiro’s vision sharpened for a moment on the fire elemental; a faery with long black hair, a fine sword, and glinting violet eyes who hurried to Pidge’s side and began swearing immediately.

“Fuck, it’s him, isn’t it?!” he exclaimed, roughly brushing dirt away from Shiro’s face, exposing the long faded scar across his nose. “It’s that damn human lieutenant Lance has been pining over, shit, this is bad. If Lance finds out –”

“We’ve gotta get him to the healers, quick, Keith, help me move him,” Pidge said, her voice cutting in and out, Shiro’s head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping.

“Healers? Pidge, he’s bleeding out, the blade probably severed his aorta!”

“No,” she said stubbornly, “I stopped it before it got too far. It just cut through his armor, might’ve nicked some major arteries, but we’ve gotta try, Keith, come _on_!”

Then Keith heaved him up, and Shiro plummeted headfirst into unconscious.

*

He awoke warm, with a dull ache in his chest and a distinct feeling of lightness, as if something was missing. The room was illuminated by soft golden lamps, and they were comforting yet entirely unfamiliar, as was the extremely soft bed he laid upon. His head hurt, he must have hit it when he fell, and he let out a low groan as he tried to sit up against the plethora of pillows behind his head.

There was a flicker of movement to his left and Shiro turned to look, and familiar blue eyes stared back at him. Shiro only had time to say, “Lance?” before he had a lapful of faery, Lance’s long arms thrown around him in a frantic embrace and Lance’s head tucking against his chest. Bewildered, Shiro patted his back awkwardly, only to realize why he felt so light – the iron arm was gone. He jolted away.

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, eyes red-rimmed. “For a while there, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” he whispered.

Shiro shook his head. “Where – where am I, what happened, why is my arm gone?!”

“Well, we can’t very well have a human with an iron arm in the Fae Palace, now can we?” Lance said with a smile. Shiro gaped at him, taking in his surroundings with new eyes – everything gleamed gold and was finer than anything Shiro had ever seen, even in the Emperor’s fortress. The blankets and pillows were silk and velvet, the tapestries upon the wall were vibrant and depicted whimsical scenes of various fae frolicking through the Wilds, not of war and conquest as Shiro was used to. Even the wood of the bed was dark and smooth and unlike anything he’d ever seen.

He looked at Lance again, and realized the nixie looked very different from the last time they’d met. He held himself differently, for one thing, with the same air of importance that human lords had. He was dressed differently too, not in the loose gauzy garments of a common nixie but in a long blue brocade cloak fastened at his throat with an ornate silver clasp. 

Just below that hung his pendant, on a fine silver chain twice looped around his neck, not nearly as accessible as before. His tunic was black silk that shone with a slight iridescence, coupled by a thin silver belt with fine leaf filigree, dark brown leggings of beautifully woven plaiting, and black leather boots that hugged his calves snugly. His ears were decorated with silver cuffs on the tips and strings of sapphires strung along the lobes.

He was not a common nixie.

Lance touched Shiro’s face gently, seeing his rising panic and confusion. “My friends brought you off the battlefield to where we healers were stationed in the Palace. You were hurt quite badly, Shiro – Pidge has been unable to stop telling everyone she meets about how a human soldier saved her life. Thank you for that, by the way. You did a very brave, very noble thing. That is why Queen Allura is allowing you to stay – you are an honored guest here, one of the first humans in a very, very long time.”

“My arm,” Shiro said again, heart pounding, head spinning.

Lance’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but it had to be removed. Nothing iron is allowed in the Palace, for obvious reasons. It is with my friend Hunk – he is a talented alchemist and is working with the others to make you a new arm, with all the capabilities of the last…minus the burning fae bit.”

Shiro stared at him, unsure of what to feel as he said, “You tricked us. You led us into a trap.”

Lance sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Shiro?” Lance snapped. “That I didn’t want the humans who would have gladly tortured, raped, and discarded me and my people to meet a terrible fate?”

“I didn’t do that,” Shiro said.

Lance’s face softened. “No,” he agreed, “you did not.”

“I understand why you did it,” Shiro murmured, and Lance looked at him with surprise. “I even think it might have been the right thing to do, if it brought the end of the war closer. Is Lotor…?”

“Dead,” Lance said with satisfaction. “Queen Allura defeated him in single combat after most of his men had been killed.”

“Zarkon will want revenge.”

Lance shook his head. “We have a double, a changeling who is nearly impervious to iron and makes a very convincing human – a much better human than Lotor ever was. Zarkon’s son will return to him, though with a very different attitude about fae. The war will end.”

“A fake son,” Shiro mused. “I’d expect nothing less from the fae, I suppose.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lance laughed, and then sighed, laying his hand over Shiro’s and looking at him seriously. “I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly. “I tried to go back to warn you not to come, to tell you it was a trap, but the Queen would not let me. A human like you did not factor into our plans, you see.”

“Your plans?”

“I meant to get myself captured all along,” Lance explained. “The plan was for me to be captured and taken to your camp so I could ‘reveal’ the fake information. Allura’s coronation was the week before the solstice, not the solstice itself.” He bit his lip. “I was well aware of the risks, and prepared to face the worst of humanity. But instead I got you.”

“When you were watching me,” Shiro said slowly, “was that part of the plan, too?”

“In a way,” Lance said. “Allura was understandably worried for my wellbeing and suggested I try to find a possible ally before I delivered myself to the lions’ den.”

“So you went for the one with an iron arm,” Shiro said in disbelief.

“I went for the pretty one,” Lance corrected, smirking. “And…well, I can’t explain it, but it seemed to me that you wanted to be anywhere but there. That you were tired of fighting; tired of killing. Luckily, I was right.”

“And now I’m in the Fae Palace,” Shiro whispered. “Lance…what…who are you?”

Lance gazed at him with his luminous eyes for a long moment. “A nixie,” he said.

“Lance, I’m not stupid, don’t treat me as such.”

Lance sighed. “Alright, but…please don’t think any differently of me, I prefer to live a quiet existence; I only ever get involved in my cousin’s affairs in times of crisis and war such as these.”

“Your cousin?”

“The Queen,” Lance said, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment. “My cousin is Queen Allura.”

Shiro flopped back down onto the pillows and stared at the elegantly tiled ceiling. “Of course she is,” he choked out. “You’re…you’re fucking _royalty_?”

“I’m a High Nix, technically,” Lance continued nervously, wringing his hands. “The Lancerion River is my domain and I rule over all the other water fae who live there. My mother was the late queen’s sister, High Nix of the Arusian River.”

Shiro’s mind snagged on a memory, of Sendak boasting about poisoning that very same river. His gut twisted. “Then…your mother died in the war?”

Lance nodded, his mouth twisting. “Yes. We have all lost things to this war, I’m afraid. But…we should let those times remain in the past now, where they belong. Peace is nearly upon us, Shiro. Things can be as they once were.”

“You don’t hate the humans for what we did?”

Lance shook his head, squeezing Shiro’s hand. “I was angry for many years, but anger makes us blind. I would not have every human killed to avenge my mother; it would only cause more suffering.”

Shiro nodded in silent agreement, and then ventured to ask, “How many men were lost in the battle?”

“Nearly all,” Lance said. “Those who survived are now prisoners. Do not worry, Queen Allura is merciful – she hopes to help them see the light and embrace a new era of peace, to show them that our world is beautiful, not frightening.”

“Do you know anything about whether my friends survived? Thace and Ulaz?”

Lance blinked, and then smiled widely. “Ah, you didn’t know? They’ve been spying on and off for the fae for years, now. That was another reason why I chose you – you were close to them. They are good men, too. They’re well, Ulaz has a minor injury so they are resting in their guest quarters, but he will make a fast recovery.”

“That does explain some things,” Shiro said after a beat of shocked silence. “Well. I’m…glad to hear they’re alright. And your dryad friend Pidge is uninjured, too?”

Lance nodded. “Not a scratch, miraculously. She shouldn’t have been out there in the first place, in my opinion – she’s far too young for such fighting.”

“How old is she?”

“Well, dryads are as old as their tree, and Pidge’s sycamore is only sixteen. I believe she looks her age in human years, for now at least.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed. “And how old are _you_?”

Lance shifted. “Er…older than that. Quite a bit older than that.” Shiro raised an eyebrow, though he was having a minor existential crisis about the thought that Lance was quite possibly _ancient._ Lance huffed and folded him arms. “High Nix are as old as their rivers, Shiro, and rivers tend to be very, very old! Mine is a thousand years, at least, if you really must know.”

“Fuck,” Shiro whispered, and covered his face with his hand. “And I thought twenty-seven was old.”

“You’re only twenty-seven? But you have white hair!” Lance peered at him curiously. “I thought you were older.”

“Don’t you talk to me about being old; you’re a thousand-year-old river guardian!” Shiro half-shrieked.

“I don’t look my age though, do I,” Lance giggled. He carded his fingers through Shiro’s white forelock. “But seriously, why the white hair?”

“Honerva’s magic,” Shiro said. “When she gave me my arm, she used her magic to give me control over it, and it did something to connect the iron to my nerves, to my mind, and…my hair has been white ever since.”

Lance frowned slightly. “Did that process hurt?”

_More than anything._ “It wasn’t pleasant,” Shiro said.

“Fae magic will not hurt you when you receive your new arm,” Lance promised. “Our alchemists do not practice dark magic like Honerva’s.”

“Dark magic?” Shiro repeated, surprised.

Lance nodded. “I’ve seen such effects before. My mother’s hair was turned white when her river was poisoned and cursed with dark magic. It should really be called white magic, it just…leeches the color and life away from things.” His frown deepened. “Sendak’s axe was enchanted in a similar way, I believe. It worsened the state of your wound.” Lance’s hand fell upon the new scar across Shiro’s chest, which was fully healed but a shade pinker than the others. “Healing it was difficult, and…several of us nearly fainted in the process. But I could not let you die, Shiro.”

“Why not?” Shiro asked. “I’m just a human, a mortal. We must seem fragile and hardly worth saving to you.”

Lance shook his head vehemently, and shed his cloak, curling up next to Shiro on the bed and tilting his face towards him with a long finger. “Not so. I have met many humans, and I have lain with my fair share, too – but none were quite like you, Shiro. I let myself be dragged into that camp fully expecting pain and humiliation, but you brought neither upon me even though nothing was stopping you from doing so. There are few men who would behave the way you did if they had a faery at their mercy.”

“I did nothing heroic,” Shiro muttered. “I tried to treat you with decency and respect, that’s all.”

“That’s enough,” Lance said, and turned Shiro’s face fully towards his own to draw him in for a kiss, longer than the one they’d briefly shared together in the tent. Lance was a good kisser; he’d had centuries to practice, after all; and Shiro found himself melting into it, his hand sliding into the faery’s soft hair as Lance’s tongue slid over his own. Lance broke away, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and meeting Shiro’s eyes with a little smirk. “And, you saved one of my best friend’s lives, so, that’s pretty heroic if you ask me. Shiro, my Hero; it even rhymes.”

“That sounds silly,” Shiro snorted, tucking a curl behind Lance’s ear and purposefully letting his thumb brush against it.

Lance shivered in delight at the touch and smoothed his hands up Shiro’s chest. “Shiro, my Champion, then.”

“Champion of what, missing arms and premature white hair?” Shiro chuckled.

“Champion of fucking,” Lance said, managing to keep a straight face for a whole five seconds before bursting into laughter at Shiro’s expression.

“I’m so very thrilled to be of service as your human concubine, thanks,” Shiro said, rolling his eyes. “Such a solid reason for keeping me alive, Lance.”

Lance poked his chest, ears flicking. “You know that’s not why. I like you,” he said brightly.

“I like you, too,” Shiro said, amused and hopelessly enamored.

“And you’re a good man,” Lance reminded him. “A good man with a good cock, what more could one ask for, really?”

“And you’re a cheeky little tart,” Shiro told him, kissing him again because he could. Lance seemed to revel in the attention, arching and sighing happily when Shiro worried at his throat with his teeth, licking and kissing over the skin more slowly than before. They had time, now, and there was no façade to keep up, no one to trick or fear.

It was, however, very frustrating to only have one arm. Shiro broke away with an irritated grumble a few minutes in – he couldn’t roll them over because he couldn’t hold himself up with only the one arm, he felt off-balance and weak, especially when his chest twinged painfully. He explained this to Lance and Lance’s brow furrowed.

“Your chest hurts? Why didn’t you say so! Alright, stop, stop your rolling about, lie on your back and stay there,” Lance ordered. “I’ll not have hours of work spent mending that wound wasted because you wanted to get a leg over me, hmph.”

Shiro opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost when Lance swept back the blankets and went about unfastening his tunic and leggings, baring his body to Shiro’s gaze. He kicked off his boots carelessly and then untied Shiro’s loose breeches before he could do so himself, tongue swiping over his lips when they were both naked. “Like what you see?” Shiro asked archly, spreading his legs wider so Lance could move between them.

Lance looked at him with dark, hungry eyes. “I cannot believe you were hiding all this from me last time,” he hissed, running his hand over Shiro’s thighs and up the scarred expanse of his chest, purposefully avoiding his cock. “Perhaps I should have left my clothes on, just so you could understand how torturous it was.”

“Next time,” Shiro suggested, and Lance’s eyes darkened further.

“Yes,” he agreed, palms settling on Shiro’s hips and cock bumping into Shiro’s as he moved forward, lithe and graceful as a damn succubus. “Mmm, I have missed this. You know I couldn’t walk properly for a week afterwards? I could feel you for days, and I could have healed myself, but I didn’t want to.” Shiro’s chest rumbled with a groan and Lance’s smirk grew. “You humans quite like the idea of ownership, don’t you? Of claiming things for your own. I suppose I wouldn’t mind being yours, Shiro…you did take good care of me the last time.”

“Lance,” Shiro whispered, pupils blown as the faery straddled his hips, lining their cocks up and stroking them together, grip purposefully loose and teasing.

Lance looked down at him with his sharp teeth bared in a grin, jewelry jingling when his ears flicked back. “Something you wanted?” he asked innocently.

“To suck your cock,” Shiro replied, and Lance’s face flushed pink. “Please.”

“Such a polite yet filthy request,” Lance said breathlessly, “how could I refuse?” He tilted his head at Shiro. “Did you have a specific position in mind?”

“Like this,” Shiro said, patting his chest, and Lance’s flush deepened. “So you can fuck my mouth.”

Lance shuffled up his body eagerly, taking care to avoid the new scar and gasping when Shiro grabbed a handful of his ass and guided his hips, smearing the head of his cock over Shiro’s parted lips. “My, you are a sight to behold,” Lance murmured, taking the base of his cock in hand and rubbing the head more firmly against Shiro’s lower lip until it was sticky and Shiro tasted salt. Shiro’s tongue darted out to tease at the tip and Lance’s hips arched, welcoming the contact. “Oh,” the faery moaned, lashes fluttering, head falling back. “It has been…a while.”

In reply, Shiro’s hand tightened on Lance’s ass, and Lance braced one hand on the headboard to lean forward and guide his cock fully into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro swallowed and felt the tip nudge at his throat, opening up to it as Lance trembled above him. Lance’s cock was slender and his lips fit easily around it, though its length made the back of his throat burn and his eyes water slightly. It was a good burn, though, and Shiro hollowed his cheeks, sucking and licking until Lance started to move his hips, rolling them smooth and sinuous and looking dazedly down at Shiro as he did so.

“Such a good human,” he cooed, stroking Shiro’s forelock out of his eyes and fucking more firmly into his throat. “So pretty taking my cock, aren’t you?” Shiro hummed around him, appreciating the praise, and let his eyes fall shut as Lance’s hand traced over his stretched jaw and the column of his neck. “You look like you’re enjoying this. You must be used to taking orders,” Lance said, fingertips dancing down his collarbones. “I wouldn’t mind ordering you around. Just a little. I think you’d let me. I think you’d enjoy it, Shiro.”

Shiro moaned around him, fingers dipping into the cleft of Lance’s ass and exposing his hole, thumb stroking blindly for it. Lance’s hips stuttered in surprise, and Shiro let his teeth graze just enough to make Lance hiss. “You’re not very subtle,” Lance laughed. “As I remember, you enjoyed that part of me quite a lot. Luckily I planned ahead, you’re welcome.”

Shiro’s eyes opened, brow furrowing. Grinning, Lance grabbed Shiro’s wrist and pressed his fingers against him. Shiro’s eyes widened. Lance had already prepared himself. Shiro groaned low in his throat and sank two fingers in, Lance’s hips jerking, cock sliding in and out between Shiro’s swollen lips as they sucked greedily around him, Shiro’s eyes hot and heavy on Lance.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Lance purred, opening easily to Shiro’s fingers as they twisted and curled inside of him. “I was just _hopeful_. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how you felt inside me. I misspoke earlier – you don’t just have a good cock, it’s the best one I’ve ever had. And if you don’t mind, I’d like it all to myself.”

Shiro added a third finger, and Lance’s lashes fluttered. “You want me to come like this, don’t you,” he gasped. “I came all over your face last time…but like this, this is better, _oh_.”

Shiro crooked his fingers against Lance’s prostate and laved the flat of his tongue over Lance’s cock and Lance fisted his hand into Shiro’s hair and came with a loud moan. Shiro’s throat constricted around him as he gagged and then swallowed, milking Lance’s cock through his climax until he whined and pushed at Shiro’s head, oversensitive. Shiro licked his lips, swallowing the last of it, unprepared for Lance to kiss him afterwards.

Lance had moved to straddle his hips again, one hand wrapping around Shiro’s cock and the other still tangled in his hair, anchoring himself to kiss Shiro deeper. Shiro let Lance ravish his mouth, and found that he did like giving him control, letting him lead. He found he didn’t dislike the thought of giving Lance total control, of letting him fuck more than just his mouth – his cock twitched in Lance’s hand at the thought.

A year ago, he would have laughed if someone told him he’d ever trust a faery to this extent. _Fae are capricious, conniving creatures too clever for their own good,_ he would have said. _To trust a faery is to sign your own death warrant._

But although Shiro was weakened and quite literally unarmed, Lance was definitely not killing him now. No, Lance was sinking down on Shiro’s cock and riding him with determination. Shiro sort of felt like he was dying, but in the best sense of the word. Lance made breathy sounds and spread his legs wider, bracing them on the bed so he could rise up on his knees and bounce himself on Shiro’s cock, aided by Shiro’s bucking hips, forcing his cock deeper and eliciting soft, pleased cries from Lance.

The faery’s spent cock was still soft, but Lance moaned when Shiro touched it, rubbing under the foreskin and coaxing him back into hardness as he had the first time. But this, this was so much better, because all of Lance’s sounds were honest and full of pleasure, not feigned pain. There was no blood or bruising on his body now, only sweat that made his skin gleam and emphasized the mouthwatering shift and squirm of his muscles as he flexed and fucked down onto Shiro.

Shiro wished he had two hands so he could stroke Lance’s cock while touching the enticing dusky nubs of his nipples. Instead, he made do with what he did have and shifted to sit up against the pillows, the movement startling Lance so badly he almost fell backwards. Shiro caught him, hand curling around his lower back, and hefted Lance up into his lap, changing the angle. Lance’s cock roused against his belly from the friction and Lance gawked at it and then Shiro like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Shiro only smiled up at him and licked at his nipples, tugging one between his teeth when Lance begged for more, the faery’s hands grasping desperately at Shiro’s hair and neck and chest. “Shiro, Shiro, please,” he chanted, finally just throwing his arms around Shiro’s neck and clinging to him with muffled moans and curses as Shiro held onto his hips and fucked him with obscene, slick sounds.

His mouth wandered up to the spots on Lance’s shoulders and Lance writhed up into it when he kissed them and found the spots were slightly raised from the rest of his skin, more like bumps than spots. He rubbed his fingers into the bumps on Lance’s hips while kissing the ones on his shoulders and Lance shivered and mouthed messily at Shiro’s neck, his teeth a hint of sharpness that sent a thrill through Shiro, not of danger but of excitement.

This was so much better than the first time. So much better tangled with each other face to face, hands free, mouths free to be as loud as they wished – and Shiro had thought Lance was loud before, but really, he’d had no idea. Lance had no qualms about crying out and moaning at the top of his lungs. Shiro had no problems with him doing that, either. Absolutely none. Especially not when Lance was astride his cock, jerking himself off, and sobbing Shiro’s name for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Unfortunately, there were some worried people in the vicinity.

The door to the room banged open and Lance screeched, clutching at Shiro as both of their heads turned to the open door so fast their necks cracked. The fire elemental, Keith, stumbled in, red-faced and out of breath. “Lance, what’s wrong, we heard –” He smacked a hand over his eyes with such a loud sound that Shiro winced. “LANCE!”

“KEITH, GET OUT!” Lance screamed, throwing the nearest object, which happened to be an expensive looking vase, at him. “EVERYTHING IS FINE!”

“EXCEPT MY FUCKING _EYES_!” Keith shouted.

“I told you they were fucking!” someone called from down the hall. It sounded like Pidge.

“Um,” Shiro said.

“WE WERE ALMOST _DONE_!” Lance yelled as Keith slammed the door shut. There was a distant, enraged shriek in reply.

“Friend of yours?” Shiro asked.

“Ugh, we are not talking about Keith right now,” Lance grumbled, starting to move again and sighing into Shiro’s neck.

“Did he think I was murdering you or something?”

Lance snorted as if the mere idea of Shiro even attempting to kill him was amusing. “Maybe. Damn, Shiro, you really do excel at bedroom talk, you know that? Murder. So very arousing. Not.”

Shiro huffed, shifting Lance in his lap and making his breath go shallow, cock leaking between them. “You want me to talk to you? About what, how irresistible you look right now, how insatiable you are, how I bet I could make you come over and over again until you were a moaning mess willing to do whatever I asked?”

Lance shuddered and kissed the soft spot under his jaw, grinding into Shiro’s taut stomach. “That’s a start.”

“Mm, or would you rather I told you how much I want you to fuck me?” Lance groaned, hand speeding up on his cock. “You could tie me up…just the way you were, I’d be entirely at your mercy. You could fuck me until I was as loud as you, until everyone in the Palace knew what you were doing to your human soldier.” Lance smothered his wanting whimper in Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro’s breathing was uneven, his thrusts into Lance faster and losing their rhythm as he chased his finish, holding the faery close and whispering raggedly into his ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell.

“You said I was the most handsome human you’d ever seen. Did you mean it?”

“ _Yes, yes, yes,_ ” Lance gasped, clawing at Shiro’s back.

“You’re the most beautiful faery I’ve ever seen,” Shiro told him, “and I have seen so many, oh so many but _you_ , you are breathtaking, so gorgeous it hurts, and I knew from the moment I first saw you that I never wanted anyone else to take you for their own, I wanted you to be _mine_.”

At his words, Lance spilled between them with a shockingly soft gasp, tightening around Shiro and sending him over the edge. He fucked Lance through it as the faery embraced him and layered his neck with kisses. Somewhere along the line Shiro lost momentum, his exhaustion crashing over him alongside the warm bliss of his finish, and he slumped back down onto his back with Lance draped atop him, their faces very close.

For a while, they just breathed together. Then Shiro cleared his throat and said, “I…apologize if that was too much at the end, there. I got carried away, and –”

Lance placed a finger over his lips, stopping him mid-sentence and shaking his head. “You wonderful, foolish human,” he whispered. “I will gladly be yours.”

Shiro blinked at him dumbly, not knowing what to say.

Lance’s face fell, and he looked very intently at Shiro’s scar. “I know that you and I have very different worlds, very different lives; and you may wish to return to your old home and your family now that the war is ending. Fae do not kidnap humans and keep them here against their will, despite what your stories may say, and I will not do that to you. So…if you must leave, that is that, and I can only say that the Lancerion River will welcome you, should you ever choose to return.”

“Lance, my only family and home was taken from me when the war began ten years ago,” Shiro said quietly, and Lance looked up slowly, disbelieving. “If you are offering a home for me here, I will gladly take it.”

“Because you have nowhere else to go?” Lance asked uncertainly.

“Because you are here, and I believe I have been rather misled about the true nature of the fae,” Shiro told him with a smile. “I may need more education on the subject, and I can think of no better teacher than you. If you would want to, that is...”

“Yes, oh yes, I would like to show you our world, Shiro,” Lance said earnestly, cupping Shiro’s face in his hands and smiling so brightly that Shiro could not stop himself from smiling back. “I would like that very much.”

“And I would like you to be mine, very much,” Shiro murmured.

“Mm,” Lance hummed happily, nuzzling their foreheads together, “I think that can be arranged.”

Shiro had never believed in happily ever afters, but in the golden light of the Fae Palace with Lance in his embrace, he thought there might be some truth to them after all.


End file.
